


Formal Blues

by theidlerwheel



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theidlerwheel/pseuds/theidlerwheel
Summary: Shepard doesn't 'do' formal.





	Formal Blues

“Back in my day, you were considered a coward if you ran. None of that pansy shit. You fight together, you die together. That idea’s been lost ever since we started discussing our military tactics with goddamn aliens,” The Admiral turned to Liara. “No offence, sweetheart.”

“None taken,” said Liara politely.

It took Shepard a while to realise that her fists were clenched so hard under the table, she was drawing blood. Admiral Shaw was getting on her last, and very frayed, nerve. She felt Liara’s hand clasp hers, leading them both away into a quiet corridor. 

“Are you okay?” Liara whispered, adjusting a stray hair that had fallen from Shepard’s tightly coiled bun. 

“If ‘fine’ means being stuck in this uniform in 100-degree heat listening to some racist old fart relive his glory days, then sure, I’m fine,” Shepard sighed. She took her hat off, rubbing her forehead in frustration. “Jesus, what am I doing here, Liara? I’m not even supposed to...” She trailed off, looking back into the dining hall. 

The room was a bastion of unnecessary opulence. In front of a gigantic window showcasing the glamour of the cityscape below, tables stretched back as far as the eye could see, each of them seating countless officers, all of whom had fought in countless wars. It all felt utterly ridiculous. Shepard deduced she could buy a small freighter with all the gold hanging from their clothes. Her eye was drawn back to Shaw. He was still gloating loudly, spitting crumbs of food across the table as he excitedly detailed the time he simultaneously impaled two Turian soldiers on his omniblade. 

Right now, escaping on a small freighter sounded like a rather attractive idea. 

“We are here,” said Liara, taking out a small cloth and wiping Shepard’s hands to refocus her attention. “Because you are an amazing, selfless, incredible woman, and tonight the Alliance is quite rightly honouring you for it.” 

“The last time I was awarded anything, I blew up the Citadel,” Shepard scoffed. “Anyway, if it’s going to be given out by people like him--”

“Jane...” Liara began.

“ _Liara_...” Shepard responded half-mockingly. To Liara, that was a sign that perhaps something she said had registered, despite the Commander’s open willingness to poke fun.

“Jane,” Liara continued, ignoring her. “In a few hours, this will all be over. At least _try_ to refrain from assaulting one of your superiors, please?” 

“I punch up, not down,” Shepard gave one of her first real smiles of the evening, cocking an eyebrow. “You know that, Li.”

“Mm,” Liara hummed in agreement, placing Shepard’s hat back on her head and fixing it to her satisfaction. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any journalists while we’re here, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Small drabble that kind of takes place smack-bang in the middle of a story. I like to think that Liara is the one who is most at ease with formal events, of the two.


End file.
